


To See A World

by BlackUnicorn



Series: Because, Love, We Have Endured [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has All the Genders (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Friendship, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Kid Fic, Other, Parents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:50:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackUnicorn/pseuds/BlackUnicorn
Summary: Crowley fell asleep, wrapped around Chava, dreaming of family, and when Aziraphale came up to check on them a few hours later and found his darling Demon and their newfound child in a gentle knot of snake and baby, he smiled and carefully lowered himself onto the bed with a book and a tea, happy to watch over his family until the sun came up again.Or:Five firsts and one last in the life of Chava Crowley-Fell
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Because, Love, We Have Endured [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697107
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	To See A World

**Author's Note:**

> This is part three of a series but could probably be read as a standalone. All you need to know is that Chava is the biological baby of Gabriel and Beelzebub but has been adopted by Crowley and Aziraphale because Reasons.  
> Also, Greasy Johnson's first name is now Steve and he is part of the Them because I say so.  
> Also, also. Crowley and Aziraphale have a cat named Emma.  
> I hope you're all holding up okay and staying safe.  
> Enjoy.

**1\. Chava’s first night in the cottage**

It had been, as Adam had so fittingly put it just before leaving Anathema’s house to find Dog and then go home, one hell of a day.

Crowley had to admit that he worried about the kid sometimes – no teenager should be so unaffected by being kidnapped by a pair of celestial beings, dropped in a foreign country with a baby, and then hunted by a Demon, and yet here they were. The other boy, Steve, was a different story. Another kid he worried about, to be honest.

“You gonna be okay?” Crowley had asked as he’d walked him back to his parents.

Steve had turned his head to look at Crowley, eyes oddly vacant and wide. “I just wanted ice cream,” he mumbled miserably.

“Yeah? What’s your favourite?”

“Mint – Chocolate Chip.”

Crowley gave an approving nod. “Good choice,” he said, discreetly snapping his finger behind his back, just as they turned into the driveway of Steve’s house, “Why don’t you check your freezer? I’m sure you’ll find something in there.” Steve stared up at him, visibly confused. “Go on – off you pop.”

Clearly not knowing what else to say, Steve did pop off, but not without throwing one last glance back at Crowley who watched and waited for the boy to enter the safety of his home, making a mental note to tell Adam and Anathema to keep an eye on him.

Only after Crowley was sure that Steve was sound and safe, sitting on his bed with a tub of ice cream in his lap, did Crowley turn around and walked the short way back to where Aziraphale and Chava and Warlock were waiting.

“You’re gonna stay with us for now,” Crowley had decided, pointing at Warlock who had merely nodded, stunned but visibly relaxing at the news, and Aziraphale had apparently decided to reschedule that particular discussion for another day.

“And you’re gonna stay with us for as long as you want,” Crowley whispered into Chava’s ear now as he took the baby back into his arms and walked to the car. Aziraphale was already sitting in the passenger seat and Warlock in the back, Anathema was watching them from the door of the house, and Crowley gave her one final nod before getting behind the wheel and handing Chava to the Angel at his side. He had to hand it to Aziraphale, he might not have been good with babies but he was willing and quick to adapt, cradling this particular baby in his arms with so much care, Crowley had to avert his eyes, afraid even his sunglasses wouldn’t be enough to contain the storm of emotions raging in his eyes.

“Let’s go home.”

The cottage they had bought almost 4 years ago now was nothing short of perfect – the kind you’d find one postcards, with ivy raking up the front of the house, the inside cosy and basked in the flickering light of the fireplace, surrounded by battered armchairs, and bookshelves that reached up to the, admittedly, low ceiling, the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries hanging in the air, and a garden so lush and beautiful it put all other gardens to shame. They were down the road from the lovely, little village called Newhaven, the ocean singing as it crashed against the cliffs, slowly chipping away at the land.

It was theirs.

The sun was already hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows onto the house, when Crowley parked the Bentley in the driveway.

“Well, this is it,” he said rather unnecessarily, gesturing for Aziraphale to give Chava back to him, which he did, “Let’s get inside.”

Over the past few years they had taken to spending a few days every other month in London, since neither of them had ever gotten to the point of being ready to let go of the bookshop entirely, and it wasn’t like they had to, anyway.

Inside, Aziraphale immediately shed off his coat, replacing it with his well-worn, soft tweed jacked that constantly smelt like cocoa and cinnamon, while heading towards the kitchen.

“Is anyone else feeling a bit peckish?” he asked, not even waiting for an answer but rather opening the fridge and pulling out multiple cheeses they had, arranging them on a platter alongside some grapes, bread, and crackers. And wine. And if Warlock was, technically, too young to enjoy a glass himself, well, he certainly wouldn’t point that out to anyone and, anyway, a pair of immortal beings couldn’t be expected to keep up with the legal drinking ages at all times.

There was a spare bedroom upstairs that Warlock took up after dinner, well fed and perhaps a little bit tipsy, while Aziraphale, Crowley, and Chava migrated towards the couch by the fireplace where Chava happily sucked on Crowley’s breast to get their own dinner, and it didn’t take long for Emma to join them, rolling up happily against Crowley’s thigh, getting long, grey fur all over his dress.

“What are we going to do about Warlock?” Aziraphale asked, his fingers playing with the strands of red hair falling over his chest in long, elegant waves.

“What do you mean, what are we going to do about Warlock?”

“I mean, my dear, what are we going to do about him? He can’t exactly stay here.”

Crowley frowned, trying to turn around and look at Aziraphale before remembering that he had a baby on his chest and anyway he was way too comfortable here, snuggled up to his Angel, his head resting against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Why not?” he asked instead and Aziraphale sighed.

“You know why. He needs to go back to his parents. They’ll be worried about him.”

“His father has never shown any interest in the boy and dear old Harriet hired a nanny one week after he was born,” Crowley said, not even trying to sound anything but bitter, “I doubt they’re overly worried.”

“Crowley –” Aziraphale started to argue but was cut off by his husband.

“Can we not do this right now, Aziraphale? We can talk about it, tomorrow. With Warlock.”

The answering silence was enough let Crowley know that there was a great deal Aziraphale wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, a pair of soft lips was pressed to his hair and the Angel tightened his hold on Crowley just so, and Crowley closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness, the safety, the feeling of _home_.

It might have been five minutes later, or it might have been five hours, Chava had long since fallen asleep on Crowley chest, and Crowley could feel himself drifting off as well, the excitement of the day finally catching up with him.

“Why don’t you go up to bed, love?” Aziraphale whispered, peppering kisses all over Crowley’s head and Crowley hummed in acknowledgement, allowing himself a few more minutes before stretching, careful not to jostle Chava too much, and finally standing up to shuffle up the stairs and towards their bed.

With Warlock in the spare room and no adequate baby-appropriate crib at hand, Crowley carefully lay Chava down on the middle of the bed and transformed into his snake form, draping his long body around and over the baby. A soft, sleek, blanket and pillow.

It was nice, this. Peaceful.

Crowley fell asleep, wrapped around Chava, dreaming of family, and when Aziraphale came up to check on them a few hours later and found his darling Demon and their newfound child in a gentle knot of snake and baby, he smiled and carefully lowered himself onto the bed with a book and a tea, happy to watch over his family until the sun came up again.

**2\. Chava’s first birthday**

Aziraphale was fretting. Now, anyone who had met the Angel for more than five minutes knew that fretfulness was a main component of his personality, but it seldom got this bad. Of course, anyone who also knew the reason behind this particular episode of fretting would also understand that it was, quite possibly, definitely maybe, justified. After all, it was his child’s first birthday today and that was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

“’ziraphale?” Crowley asked from behind his back, his voice somewhat slurred and still laced thickly with sleep, “Wha’re you doin’? ‘s sssix in the morning.”

Aziraphale turned around to look at his husband, long hair mussed and messy and tempting Aziraphale to run his fingers through it and work out the knots one by one.

“My apologies, dear. You should go back to bed.”

Crowley blinked, slowly and sluggishly, his brain clearly not quite in full working order just yet, before his let his eyes wander through the kitchen, and Aziraphale winced. The kitchen, he knew, looked like a tornado had gone through it, meticulously opened all the drawers and cupboards to take things out and then put them back in all the wrong places, sprinkled flour and sugar and cocoa powder over the floor and counters, and eventually raided the fridge to lay all its contents out on the table, sorted by size and food group.

“What have you done to my kitchen?” Crowley asked, sounding infinitely more awake, and a good few octaves shriller than was usual.

It was, theoretically, of course their kitchen, however, Aziraphale was not and never had been much of a cook, whereas Crowley flourished in trying out new recipes, experimenting with ingredients and seasoning and methods, whipping up five-course gourmet meals from virtually nothing. The kitchen was Crowley’s domain and he was particularly proud of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Aziraphale told Crowley, painfully aware that his face was on fire.

“Well…colour me surprised.” It didn’t seem like Crowley was truly upset, more like he was trying very hard not to laugh while still processing what he was seeing, “Right. I can’t deal with this without coffee.”

Luckily, coffee was very much something Aziraphale could make, and make well, and it didn’t take long for him to hand a cup of perfectly made, scalding hot coffee to Crowley who accepted it gratefully, setting it down on a tiny, free spot on the table, right next to Emma who had been watching the disaster unfold for the last few hours, silently mocking the Angel.

“Now…what were you trying to make?”

Six hours later, they had not only made a birthday cake, but also birthday brownies, birthday scones, birthday biscuits, and birthday sandwiches. And just in time, too, since the first guests were sure to arrive any second now.

“Warlock, dear, could please put the kettle on?” Aziraphale called from the garden where he was setting the table, while Crowley was feeding Chava.

And then the bell rang.

“Oh dear.”

“I got it,” Warlock told him in passing, already on his way to the door, nearly stumbling over the cat.

Aziraphale couldn’t express how fond he was of the boy and could hardly belief how much he had protested at the beginning at the idea of taking him in; luckily, both Crowley and Warlock had been very persistent.

“Aziraphale!” Anathema greeted him, stepping out into the garden, shortly followed by Newt and the Them, with their newest addition of one Steve Johnson.

“Ah, yes, hello. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Where’s the birthday kid?” Newt asked, looking around the garden as if he expected Chava to appear out if thin air.

“Upstairs,” Aziraphale answered, “Crowley’s just feeding them. But do sit down. Tea or coffee, anyone?”

The thing about first birthdays is, of course, that they’re exclusively for the parents and could probably be ignored without even feeling guilty about it, and yet…this particular first birthday was special, at least it was for Aziraphale. It had been a while since he and Crowley had had proper friends, not to mention a whole group of them, and to have them all gathered at their home, celebrating the life of their child? That certainly was special, anyone would agree, surely.

The doorbell rang again just as Crowley emerged from upstairs and the tea and coffee were ready.

“Need a hand, angel?” Crowley asked, Chava expertly propped against his hip, walking straight past Aziraphale to open the door for Madam Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell.

“No thank you, love – hello my dear, how have you been?”

“Same as ever,” Madam Tracy answered, “My bones are just not quite what they used to be I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” He really couldn’t, actually, since being immortal had the perks of not having an aging body. “Why don’t you all go outside? Everyone wants to congratulate Chava. I’ll be right there.”

“Pretty sure they’re here for the food,” Crowley muttered, a teasing smile playing around his lips but he turned around and led the two newcomers to the garden where he, or rather Chava, was greeted with an array of exclamations and congratulations and oh-my-have-you-grown-ations.

It was really rather lovely.

Anathema had gotten Chava a cute, little black jumper that proudly proclaimed Chava to be a ‘Devil in training’, while Newt had gone with a picture book about the Little Lion Lola and her friend Flip the Falcon, the Them had bought an impressive, if slightly age inappropriate, drawing set, and Madam Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell had brought a bottle of wine.

Chava, for their part, seemed happy enough with all the attention they were getting, babbling and laughing and grabbling for everything in their reach, going as far as charming a smile on old Shadwell’s face. Crowley, Aziraphale also noticed, never once took his eyes of the child. Quietly talking to Steve, snarking off at Anathema, telling elaborate stories about the Roman Empire to the Them, he still kept an ever-watchful eye on Chava, and if the they showed as much as a hint of being tired or uncomfortable, Crowley would be up and at them, Aziraphale knew. The love radiating off of the Demon had only gotten stronger during the last year, stronger and bigger and deeper, enveloping them all, protecting and shielding them. It was enough to make Aziraphale feel dizzy.

“This was great,” Anathema said, putting on her coat, “Thanks for inviting us.”

It was getting late and Warlock had already taken Chava to bed, quite possibly his bed, as Aziraphale had caught him doing more than once before. The boy was smitten with the little kid, as was everyone else, as was Aziraphale.

“No problem at all. I’m ever so glad you could make it.”

Anathema smiled. “We’d best be going, though. It’s a long drive back to Tadfield.”

“Quite right.” Aziraphale nodded, stacking another box of leftovers onto the ever-growing pile in Newt’s arms as they stood in the living room. Madam Tracy and Seargent Shadwell had already left, and Anathema was right, it was getting quite late. “Well, do take care, dear, and safe travels.” The blessing was more habit than anything else, a subtle little thing, but of course Anathema noticed, giving him a small, grateful smile before turning to Crowley.

“Take care of your children,” she told him, a plea, maybe, or a threat. Aziraphale couldn’t quite tell.

“I will.”

The two immortal beings stood and watched as Anathema herded Newt and the Them towards the car, waving goodbye one last time before they drove off into the approaching night.

“It _was_ great, wasn’t it?” Crowley commented softly, putting an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“It was,” the Angel agreed, leaning into the touch.

“I love you, angel.”

Careful not to break the contact between them, Azirapale turned around and put both his hands on Crowley’s hips. “And I love you, my dear,” he whispered, drawing his husband even closer, “So very much.”

**3\. Chava’s first day at school**

“Crowley! Crowley you have to wake up! I’m gonna be late!”

“Nghk.”

“Crowley!”

Crowley screwed her eyes shut, hoping that, if she just ignored the little devil by her side for long enough they would go away.

“Come ooon.”

No such luck, then. Sighing deeply, Crowley opened her eyes and was met by a pair of beautiful, deep purple eyes which were attached to Crowley’s heart. A part of it anyway. And definitely not literally because that would be all kinds of weird and gross.

“Finally,” Chava exclaimed, climbing off the bed and running out of the room and down the stairs, taking Emma with them who had taken to sleeping in the bed as well, taking up way more space than was probably strictly necessary.

“Nghk.” Crowley let out a groan and sat up, wincing when she spotted the window. It was still dark outside. Slowly, taking her sweet time, the Demon left the warm comfort of the bed and padded downstairs, lured in by the smell of coffee.

“Good morning, my love,” Aziraphale greeted her, a bright smile on his face that lit up the whole room, as he handed her a cup. Crowley’s response was a vague grunt which earned her a fond eye-roll and a gentle kiss to the temple, “I do apologise for our child.”

Some part of Crowley’s sleep-addled mind knew perfectly well that it had probably been Aziraphale who had sicced Chava on her in the first place, but the words got lost in translation somewhere between one synapse and the next on their way from her brain to her mouth and the only thing that came out was a long, intense yawn.

“Can I have cake for breakfast, daddy?” Chava asked from where she was standing by the fridge.

“Now, I don’t think –”

“Pleeease?”

“Oh, very well,” Aziraphale said, opening the fridge and taking the plate with yesterday’s baking escapades, “But only because today is a special day.”

Crowley snorted into her coffee but chose to not say anything. Everyday was a special day for the Angel, and Chava had him wrapped around their little finger and they knew it. Frankly, Crowley had never been prouder.

“You’ll take a proper lunch with you,” she managed to say, the concept of speech coming back to her slowly but surely as the caffeine started to work its magic.

“Will you make it?”

“’course I will, darling.”

“Okay then.” Smiling, Chava tucked into the cake, letting out happy little noises after every other bite, and even if Crowley had wanted to, she couldn’t have stopped the warmth from spilling out of her heart into the rest of her body.

It was a special day. Chava was six now, which meant today was going to be their first day at school. A thought that made Crowley just a little bit sad. She’d gotten used to having the kid around at all times, and ever since Warlock had gone off to uni they’d grown even closer – going for walks at the beach, working in the garden together, making cakes and pastries for Aziraphale…

“Why don’t you go up and pick what you want to wear today?” Aziraphale suggested when Chava had finished their slice. The words had barely left his mouth when the little devil was already bolting up the stairs, too excited to sit still for more than ten seconds. “Oh dear,” the Angel said, putting the empty plate into the dishwasher.

“You okay, angel?”

“Splendid, Crowley.”

It was a lie. Of course, it was a lie. Crowley hadn’t been the only one to get attached to the kid. While Chava helped Crowley cook and bake and garden, it was Aziraphale that read them bedtime stories and took them to the petting zoo and slipped them chocolate and candies behind Crowley’s back. It would be weird now, with Chava gone half of the day.

Instead of saying any of that, however, Crowley simply finished her coffee and stood up. “Better go and help the little devil get dressed,” she said, walking back upstairs and into Chava’s room. The ceiling was a perfect imitation of the night sky outside, stars twinkling down on them, while the walls were covered in pictures of dinosaurs, horses, and various superheroes.

Chava was standing in front of their wardrobe, hands on their hips, and staring very intently at the content of said wardrobe.

“What are we thinking, huh?” Crowley asked, crouching down next to the kid.

“Can I wear a dress?” Chava asked, glancing at Crowley.

“Of course, you can. You can wear whatever you want.”

“Can we match?”

Crowley chuckled and pressed a kiss to Chava’s forehead before standing up and answering, “We can totally match.”

It had been few months ago, they’d all taken a trip to London to visit Warlock and check up on the bookshop, and while Aziraphale had been busy taking stock of his possessions and fighting off potential customers, Crowley had taken Chava shopping – cue the dresses. Knee-long, purple atrocities that clashed horribly with Crowley’s hair but were a perfect match for Chava’s eyes, with white flowers and little bows. Chava had seen them and fallen in love. Crowley, not so much. And yet, here they were.

“Oh! You two look positively delightful,” Aziraphale exclaimed gleefully when they came back downstairs, and it took all of Crowley’s willpower to keep the scowl on her face while Chava was too busy admiring themselves in the mirror by the coat hanger.

“Shut it,” she hissed, “I have a lunch to prepare.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Lunch was prepared, and half and hour later they all found themselves in the Bentley and on the road. Technically, they could have walked the short distance into the village, but Crowley reckoned if she already had to suffer the indignity of the dress, she could at least save some of her image by showing up with her car.

“You excited?” she asked Chava in the backseat, who had gone worryingly quiet the closer they got to the school.

“What if they don’t like me?” Chava whispered, “What if I’m weird?”

It broke Crowley heart to hear so much fear in the kid’s voice, and she quickly pulled over and stopped the car, so she could get into the back and pull Chava into a tight hug, while Aziraphale turned around in his seat.

“You’re not weird, my love,” Crowley told them, “And they will like you. Not everyone, because that’s not how it works. But enough. And if anyone is mean to you, you tell us, okay?”

Sniffling slightly, Chava nodded. “Will you be there later?”

“To pick you up?” Aziraphale chipped in and Chava nodded, “Of course we will.”

“Can we get ice cream?”

Chava was still rubbing their eyes, thus missing the little staring contest between their parents but, really, it had even been a question because, ultimately, Crowley was, and always had been, an abysmally bad Demon, and being horns over hooves in love had not helped matters in the slightest.

“But only ‘cause today is a special day,” Crowley sighed, but the matching grins from both Chava and Aziraphale were totally worth it.

“Let’s dry those tears, now, huh?” Out of nowhere, Aziraphale produced a handkerchief to clean Chava’s face, and a dainty, little daisy to tuck behind the kid’s ear.

“I’m ready to go to school now,” they announced, raising their head, yaw set in brave determination.

“Of course, you are.” Crowley pressed one last kiss to Chava’s hair before getting back behind the wheel and driving the rest of the way to school where other parents were already seeing their children off for the day. “Have a good day, darling. We’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

“And then we’ll get ice cream,” Aziraphale added, making it incredibly unclear who was looking forward to it more, he or the six-year-old.

“Okay. Love you.”

“We love you too, pumpkin.”

And then the pumpkin marched towards the school building, head held high and ready for battle, and Crowley had to blink hard behind her sunglasses to get rid of those pesky tears threatening to spill over.

“They’ll be okay,” Aziraphale said, taking her hand into his.

“I know.” And she did. “They're ours, after all.”

**4\. Chava’s first heartbreak**

Aziraphale startled when the front door closed with a _bang_.

“Crowley, dear, is that you?” he called out, turning in his armchair to catch a glimpse of his Demon. Except, it wasn’t his Demon at all. “Chava?”

The teenager ran right past him, up the stairs, and into her room, judging by the sound of yet another door slamming shut. Quickly, Aziraphale put his book aside and followed his daughter, tentatively knocking on the door. “Chava, dear, is everything okay?”

“Go away!” came the muffled response.

“I most certainly shall not. You’re upset.”

“Go! Away!”

“Chava, what –”

“Piss off!” The cry was followed by something hitting the door and Aziraphale took a step back, staring at it.

“Oh. Really now,” he muttered to himself, “There’s no need for that.”

But he did take his leave, perfectly able to take a hint, and give Chava her space. He could still hear her cry, stifled sobs that made his blood run cold and his very essence ache. His child was in there and very clearly in pain and there was nothing he could do and it hurt.

Making himself a cup of hot cocoa, Aziraphale sat down on the stairs, listening to the sounds of his breaking heart, waiting.

He was still waiting when Crowley got home, two pizza boxes and a plastic bag with clinking wine bottles in his arms.

“Angel?” Carefully, he sat down the food and drinks, and slowly approached Aziraphale. “What’s going on?”

“Something bad happened,” Aziraphale told him, “And I can’t make it better.”

Crowley frowned and took off his sunglasses, revealing the confusion and concern in his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked again, stepping closer to Aziraphale.

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale said, “But Chava is upset and there’s nothing I can do.”

The Demon’s eyes jumped from Aziraphale to the stairs and back to Aziraphale, his face going through several expressions, too fast to decipher, before settling something deep and sad and understanding.

“Oh, Angel,” he breathed out, finally closing the gap and his arms around his husband.

“What can I do?”

“You can be right here, waiting for when she’s ready,” Crowley whispered, gently steering Aziraphale towards the couch, “Can I get you something? More cocoa?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No thank you, my dear. I think – I think something a little bit stronger is in order.”

“I have just the thing.”

The pizza was still warm and the wine cold when Crowley served them, cuddling up against Aziraphale and allowing his husband to feed him with the occasional bite.

“I just hope she’s okay,” Aziraphale said after a long moment of silence, sipping his wine.

“She’s not.” There was a shadow on Crowley’s, a darkness that spoke of what lurked within and that Aziraphale hadn’t seen in a very long time. “But she will be.”

There was a sound from upstairs. The slightest creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing down the stairs, the sniffling intake of breath behind their backs.

Aziraphale turned around, looking at Chava who stood at the foot of the stairs, wearing her favourite worn-out jumper and sweatpants, eyes red and swollen.

“Oh.” Aziraphale swallowed around the thick lump in his throat, trying to pull his lips into something resembling an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you sit down, darling. There’s more than enough space. And pizza.”

Without a word, Chava rounded the couch and squeezed herself between Crowley and Aziraphale, drawing her knees up, hugging them tightly, while Crowley quickly put an arm around her and held out the pizza box like an offering.

“Hungry?”

They ate and drank and sat in silence, the fireplace crackling away as the seconds ticked by. There was peace there, in the silence, in the unspoken words that passed between them.

Sixteen years had Chava been with them now. Not a long time for an immortal and yet an eternity in itself and Aziraphale had cherished every second of it.

“Sorry, I yelled at you,” Chava muttered once the last pizza slice was gone.

“That’s quite alright, my dear, I do suppose I was being a bit…pushy.”

“Yeah, well…” Chava shrugged. “Still.”

Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s arm tighten around the girl in their midst. “Do you wanna talk about it?” the Demon asked softly.

For a long moment it seemed like Chava would say no, like she would shake her head and maybe stand up to go back to her room. Then – “There’s this boy,” she whispered, fingers playing with the frayed hem of her jumper, “Cian. He’s in my class.” Aziraphale let his eyes fall shut. Of course, there was a boy. “He’s nice,” Chava continued, the barest hint of a blush rising in her cheeks. “We sit together in history. I asked him out a few weeks ago. We had ice cream. It was nice.”

Aziraphale thought he remembered that day. Chava had come home later with some flimsy excuse about a presentation and the library and a smile on her face that no schoolwork would ever bring out.

“What happened then?” Crowley prompted gently when it became clear that Chava wasn’t going to continue by herself.

“He’s nice,” she repeated, “Really sweet. And smart. We started having lunch together. Then we kissed.” The blush darkened at the memory of what Aziraphale assumed had been her first kiss, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Young love had always been something he’d looked upon with fondness. “I really like him,” Chava confessed, her voice low and filled with wonder, but also sorrow.

“Did you tell him that?” Aziraphale asked, even though he could guess the answer.

Chava nodded. “He said he liked me too. We held hands and he walked me to the bus stop a few times and we kissed.”

“That sounds lovely, my dear.”

“It was.”

“What happened then?” Crowley asked again, arms tightening ever so slightly around their daughter, grounding her.

“Today,” she muttered, “He said we needed to talk. And then – then he said we couldn’t be together ‘cause he doesn’t see me like that.”

Inside Aziraphale’s chest, his heart broke in two. “I’m so sorry.”

“What if there’s something wrong with me?”

It was like a punch to the gut, the kind that forced all air out of your lungs, leaving you panting and gasping and aching.

“Did he sssay that?” Crowley hissed, and even though Aziraphale couldn’t see his face, he knew it would be twisted in anger, the white of his eyes taken over by yellow malice, his teeth sharpened and venomous.

Chava shook her head. “But what if I did something that made him not like me?”

“Do you know,” Crowley began, his voice trembling ever so slightly, and Aziraphale reach up to take his hand, “For the longest time I wasn’t sure if your dad actually liked me. He used to say he didn’t. That we’re not friends. Course, that was different circumstances, but ssstill. It wouldn’t have been my fault. We can’t help who we are and if people don’t like that, it’s their loss.”

“It hurts.”

“It does.”

Between them, Chava rubbed her eyes, a wayward tear making its way down her cheek and Aziraphale quickly wiped it away with his thump.

“What do I do?” she asked, the words weighted with pain and anguish.

“You can try and talk to him, if that’s what you wanted. Or you cannot. ‘s your choice. But you can’t push him. If he doesn’t want it, then he doesn’t want it, and that’s that. And it hurts. It hurts a lot. And it will keep hurting, until it won’t. You’ll always remember but you’ll also heal. You’ll be okay.” It sounded like a promise and a prayer, and even though there was no divine meaning behind the words, Aziraphale could still feel their truth. She would be okay. They’d make sure of it. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Chava.”

Aziraphale shifted slightly where he was sitting next to his daughter, careful not to break the moment, and put his arm over Crowley’s where it was lying over Chava’s shoulders, reaching out with his other hand to take one of hers.

“Crowley’s right, my dear,” he said, “All you can do is let him know how you feel and what you want. The rest is up to him.”

Chava nodded her head, blinking rapidly, as she melted into the embrace of her parents.

“We love you,” Aziraphale added.

“I love you, too.”

She’d be okay. Not tomorrow, and not next week, and probably not next month, but she’d be okay, and he and Crowley would be with her until she was, and they’d stay with her after that, because after all, they did have eternity laid out in front of them, up for the taking, and Chava was still young. Someone only knew how many heartbreaks she’d still have to live through.

**5\. Chava’s first flat**

The flat was not far from the bookshop. A small thing with a single bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a living room-kitchen area that barely fit the furniture that was in it. And yet, it was nice.

“Put those down over there,” Chava told Warlock who was carrying a box labelled ‘books’, “And do be careful. Some of those are first editions.”

Warlock grunted and grumbled under the heavy load but complied.

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just miracle this up,” Crowley commented from where she was leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest. She was sweating way too much underneath the leather jacket but would rather take a bath in Holy Water than admit to having made a tactically unwise decision regarding her attire.

“Because!” Chava said, giving her parent an annoyed look, “It’s cheating.” She looked around, running a hand through her short hair, before turning back to Crowley “If you’re not helping you can go out and get something to eat.”

Crowley stuck out her tongue but did as she was told, happy to do something that did not include lifting and carrying heavy boxes up three flights of narrow stairs. Outside, he saw Adam and Brian struggling with a ‘kitchen shit’ box, Wensleydale sneaking off for a smoke break only to be dragged back by his ears by Pepper who made for a good drill sergeant while her sometimes-sometimes not boyfriend Steve looked on with heart-eyes. Aziraphale seemed to be the only one working without getting tired, very possibly because he was, as Chava had put it, cheating.

“Gonna go get some food,” Crowley let her husband know, “Be back in a few.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the prospect of food. “Do bring ice cream my dear. It is such a lovely day.”

“Will do, angel.”

It was a lovely day. The sun was shining down on London with no cloud in sight, and everyone in a fifty-mile radius seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. And yet. Crowley scowled slightly as she walked down the street and towards the ice cream parlour. Chava was moving on. Out. Whatever. She was growing up, is the point, going off to uni and wanting her freedom and independence and whatnot. Sure, London wasn’t that far from home and they’d visit each other and Crowley and Aziraphale still had the bookshop, but it still wouldn’t be the same. They were on their own again, now. She and Aziraphale. Warlock and Adam were living in Tadfield, both secretly planning to propose to the other which would be happening any day now, which meant they certainly didn’t need any old celestial kooks around to meddle in their lives. The Them had grown up and grown up well, with all their ducks in their rows and all their shits together where it belonged and also very much not in need of an extra pair of parents any longer. And now this. She should be happy, probably. Happy that Chava was strong and healthy and smart. Happy that they’d done such a good job raising their kids. And she was. Happy.

And yet.

Ice cream in hand, Crowley walked back to Chava’s new place, grateful for the sunglasses to hide the bitterness in her eyes. Everything seemed to have found its way upstairs when Crowley entered the flat, the main room packed with boxes and people, making it hard to move.

“Thanks, Crowley,” Chava said, smiling brightly as she took the ice cream.

“Don’t mention it.”

She was being unfair. Of course, she was being unfair. Chava was an adult and she had a right to live wherever she wanted.

“I love you.”

Behind Crowley’s glasses, her eyes grew wide as she stared at her daughter, wide and wet, the thick lump in her throat growing bigger, making her choke on all the things she wanted to say in that moment.

“Nghk,” was all that came out, making Chava laugh, which was almost worth it.

“I know,” she said, and turned around to distribute the ice cream, while Crowley was left to her own devices trying hard not to burst into tears right then and there.

A hand, soft and warm, took hold of hers, squeezing ever so slightly. “She does love you, you know,” Aziraphale muttered, stepping closer, “So very much.”

“I know, angel.” And she did. Crowley might have lost her love radar during the Fall, but that didn’t mean she was blind. Or stupid.

“As do I.”

Crowley smiled softly, returning the squeeze. “I know, angel.”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” Crowley nodded, watching as Steve smeared ice cream on Pepper’s nose, making her laugh, as Wensleydale and Brian got too close to the ‘books’ box and where immediately shooed off by Chava, as Warlock and Adam traded soft smiles and looks and kisses, as Chava turned around to her parents and smiled and her eyes were filled with warmth and love. “Yeah, we will.”

**+1. Chava’s last day on earth**

The airport was buzzing with life just as Chava was buzzing with excitement.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Aziraphale asked for the fifth time in five minutes.

“Yes, dad.”

“Identification? Snacks? Clothes?”

“Yes, dad.”

“Phone charger?”

“Dad!”

“No one uses phone chargers anymore, angel,” Crowley added rather unhelpfully, a sharp smirk on his face that still did nothing to hide the sadness underneath and for a second Chava regretted her decision.

“Chava!”

Until she didn’t.

Theo came rushing towards them, smiling brightly and happily, making Chava’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” she breathed out, pulling her partner into a searing kiss as soon as they were within reach, very much ignoring the fact that her parents were standing right there. “You ready?” she asked when they were forced to come up for air.

“Am I ever,” Theo said, “Are you? Hi Crowley,” they added quickly, waving at the Demon and the Angel standing behind Chava, “Hi Aziraphale.”

“I’m ready.”

“Brilliant! Let’s go!”

Chava stumbled slightly as Theo took her hand and pulled her towards the gates. She knew Crowley and Aziraphale would follow but still she turned around to look at them. They were smiling, indulgently and fondly but also sadly, and as excited as she was, she understood. They wouldn’t see each other for a while now and it wasn’t like she could just pop in for tea on the weekends whenever she felt like it. Not like they were just a two-hour drive away from each other that could be made in an hour if the dedication was there. No, this was different.

“Wait a second,” she said as soon as they stood in front of the point of no return.

Theo gave her a smile filled with understanding and stepped away, giving their girlfriend and her parents the time and space they needed to say goodbye.

“Come here, little devil,” Crowley muttered, opening his arms which Chava stepped into only all too happily.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she said, sounding a little more choked that she was comfortable with.

Crowley nodded against her neck, tightening his hold. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“We’ll call,” Aziraphale said, unlike his husband he wasn’t even trying to hide the tears streaming down his face, letting them fall freely and proudly, “And if you need anything, we’ll be there.”

“I know. But I’ll miss you.”

Crowley took a step back, not much but just enough to so she could see his face as he took off his glasses. “Look at you,” he whispered, “Off to the stars.”

“I’ll think of you,” Chava promised and Crowley pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling through the unshed tears.

“I know you will.”

He finally let go of her, immediately replaced by Aziraphale.

“We’re proud of you.”

“I love you, dad.”

“And I love you, my dear.” He was still crying but he, too, was smiling. “Now, you don’t want to miss your flight, do you? Mind how you go...I think you’ll have the best of times.” The blessing washed over her, familiar and comfortable like an old, worn-old sweater, and Chava relaxed at the feeling.

She’d be okay, she knew, her parents were making sure of it.

“I’ll call as soon as we land,” she promised, taking a step back, then another, next to her partner who took her hand.

“Good-bye, Chava.”

The ship was nice and their room comfy and Chava stared out of the window as they started, watching the airport and London and England and Earth get smaller and smaller and smaller.

She was off to the stars. Off to the new worlds they called the Colonies, because, of course they did. Off to a life with her partner for however long they managed.

Next to her, Theo was babbling excitedly about all the things they’d be doing once they were there, and Chava nodded along, but she wasn’t listening. Not really.

Dad and Crowley had woken her up this morning, gently and carefully, with a kiss and a smile. They’d had crepes for breakfast, with strawberries and whipped cream. Crowley had helped her pack the last few bits and pieces she’d forgotten about, giving her his leather jacket, and Aziraphale had handed her some of his favourite books and a large bag of sweets and pastries. They’d gone for a walk along the cliffs and eaten ice cream at the beach and visited Warlock’s grave.

It had been perfect. And it had been the last.

Her last day on earth. At least for now.


End file.
